


Tomorrow

by orphan_account



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 17:24:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7854265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's time to take Ciel's soul. The only problem is, Sebastian no longer seems to want it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this quite a while ago, dug it out of some old files, and realized it was only a few paragraphs away from completion, so yeah, hope you enjoy!

It's time for Sebastian to take Ciel's soul.

Ciel's sixteen now, which is more years than he ever thought he'd get. He's not all that disappointed that he won't get more.

He's sitting in his room, with one leg crossed over the other and a relaxed expression (as close as he can get to one, that is) on his face. His chin dips down so he can look Sebastian in the eye, who is kneeled at his feet.

The bed sheets wrinkle around him as he shifts, anxiously so. He covers his antics with a glare. "Well? What are you waiting for, an invitation? Get on with it already."

The butler peers up at him innocently. "Get on with what, my lord? You must be more specific."

"Taking my soul, moron." The demon's teasing him, he knows, and it makes his fingers twitch. "You got me my revenge, so it's all yours. I've no use for it anyhow." The contract—the sole thing that has been keeping him afloat for so long—is gone, is done. What purpose does he have for living now?

"Ah. Of course, thank you for reminding me," says Sebastian, as if he hasn't been pining after Ciel's soul for six whole years. Eyes of ruby, of blood, focus on the boy. "You have been quite an interesting human, I'll say. It's almost a shame to see you go."

"Stop with the flattery already," snaps Ciel. "You're not a butler anymore, so stop acting like one."

"That's not true, my lord. I'll be your butler until the end, and that end is not yet upon us, now is it?"

Ciel's contracted eye feels heavy in his skull. "It's not?"

"No," says Sebastian, and his eyes gleam with something Ciel can't identify. He takes Ciel's smaller hands in his own, enveloping them. The gesture is so intimate—from a sadistic demon it is, at least—that Ciel shudders. "Not today."

"And why would that be, Sebastian?" His voice is a dagger, one he knows can't even scratch a demon, much less harm one. He wonders if he's made a mistake, if the demon's intentions are not simply Ciel's death, but something far worse. The thought makes his blood run icy, and then his glare in his eyes is not anger but fear.

"Why?" the demon repeats, and his lips lift in a taunting smile. "Why, because your dinner preparations still need to be made, of course."

The words make no sense, no sense whatsoever, and Ciel has a hard time absorbing them. "I—What?"

Sebastian stands up, pulling his hands away from Ciel's. Before he goes, he leans down and presses a kiss to Ciel's brow. "Tomorrow, my lord. Tomorrow, I shall take that delectable soul of yours."

 

~

 

Sebastian's in the library, dusting up a storm, when Ciel finds him.

The second Ciel steps over the threshold, though, the dust lingering in the air irritates his allergies, and his breaths quickly turn to uncontrollable sneezes. His hand reaches out to grip a bookshelf. "Sebastian," _—achoo—_ "Hey, Sebastian, stop it!"

An instant later the dusting ceases, and Sebastian turns to the boy, brows creased with what could be seen as concern if on a human's face. "Master? You should be in your study, you have papers to attend to—"

"Damn the papers, why haven't you taken my soul yet?"

"Pardon?" The mock look of confusion Sebastian has on his face is beyond irritating. "I'm not sure what you mean—"

"Today," grits out Ciel. "Today is the day you said you'd take my soul. Or do you not remember? Good for nothing demon, I swear—"

Sebastian had promised it would be today, after making that ridiculous statement about dinner preparations, and Ciel won't _—can't—_ wait any longer. Waiting for his inevitable death is torturous and slow, like watching the hand on a clock tick and tick and _tick._

"Ah, right. I'm sorry, but I'm fairly busy today . . . Do you think we could do that tomorrow?"

"I—" Spluttering, Ciel shakes his head, his heart thumping. "Are you insane—?"

"I've waited years for this meal," Sebastian reminds him. "Surely I can wait a day or two more. Unlike my young master, I can be patient."

Ciel is so, so confused. He sneezes again. "I will never understand your kind."

"And I'll never understand yours," Sebastian says in return, then quieter, "but I hope to, with time." There's a hidden meaning behind his words, but then again there always is, so Ciel doesn't bother deciphering it.

 

~

 

Ciel never means to make Elizabeth cry, but sometimes he just can't help it.

The fat, watery tears on the girl's face aren't surprising, though, so luckily he comes prepared. He takes out a handkerchief and dabs at her bloodshot eyes.

"Please calm down, Elizabeth—I mean Lizzy—"

"I can't!" she wails, and the tears roll down faster, too fast for Ciel's little white handkerchief to catch. "I—All I'm asking for is one dance, Ciel! And we haven't spent time together in—in—in, well, forever!"

"I understand that," sighs Ciel, "but I've been busy lately, and it can't be helped. The paperwork for the company—"

"But I'm going to be your wife!" She cries louder, "Aren't I more important than some silly papers?"  
"Of course you're important, but—"

"I spent so much time picking out a dress, to look as cute for you as I could . . ." She balls the frilly pink dress in both hands, bunching up the fabric. "I just want to be a good wife for you, Ciel! That's all . . . "

Ciel doesn't want to upset her like this, but it has to be done. He truly can't have a dance with her—not when Sebastian promised today would be the day, the day everything ended. He has no time left.

Ciel opens his mouth with what he hopes is an assuring comment on his lips, but another voice speaks up first.

"My lord, if you wish to dance with Lady Elizabeth, it would be perfectly fine." Then Sebastian's there, his presence in the room like a shadow. His hands clasp in front of him, and the smile on his face is amused. "The business you had to attend to today . . . It's been cancelled. You can to do it tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" echoes Ciel. His lungs tighten. "No, it must be today—You said it'd be today, Sebastian!"

"But now it's been cancelled." Sebastian's eyes narrow, then, as if he thinks Ciel might say just a tad too much on the subject. "Besides, don't you think you owe Lady Elizabeth a dance? I can even go get the violin, if you wish."

Ciel wants to groan, but to avoid upsetting Elizabeth, he doesn't. "Fine," he says. "But be quick about it."  
But even as he dances across the room, Lizzy in his fingertips and violin notes filling his ears, his mind is stuck on the word _tomorrow_ like a broken record.

 

~

 

The snow is fluttering outside the manor when Ciel steps out, dressed in his winter attire. Sebastian is behind him, he knows, even if he can't see him.

Exhaling a chilly breath, Ciel tugs his gloves up and ventures into the garden, knowing his butler will follow his footprints in the snow. Once they're a safe distance from the manor, he stops, and calls out, "Come here, Sebastian."

Ciel doesn't hear the man's footsteps, but he appears nonetheless, at Ciel's side instantly. He's also dressed in his coat, starkingly black against the white snow. "Yes, my lord?"

"I—"

"Ah," Sebastian interrupts, "your scarf is on wrong. Let me."

As Sebastian moves closer to fiddle with his scarf, Ciel straightens his spine, chin up. The butler can attempt to distract him all he'd like. It isn't working, not when something as heavy as this weighs on his mind. "One month," he says.

Delicate eyebrows draw into a baffled expression, but Ciel can see the crystal clarity in Sebastian's eyes. "Yes? What about it, young master?"

"It's been one month since our contract was fulfilled, and yet, I'm still here. With a soul, too. Why is that?" His words are not kind, nor are they grateful. They ring with accusation, as if saying, _What kind of game are you playing, Sebastian?_

Games are Ciel's forte, not his. The demon is his pawn, his knight; he's not allowed to create his own game and his own rules that Ciel doesn't understand.

Sebastian's finished fixing his scarf, but the distance between them doesn't change. "My lord, I don't understand why you're stressed over this. I've lengthened your life, and this is the gratitude I get?"

"I don't need it lengthened," Ciel hisses, "I need it to be over. Waiting for you to kill me, but not knowing when—and your _tomorrows_ are no help, because it's never tomorrow, Sebastian. It never is, and now I'm hardly living, if all I can think about is my death. How the hell am I supposed to be _grateful?"_

Ciel inhales jagged bursts of air—the stress and cold aren't doing wonders for his asthma. Sebastian's silent, if for a moment.

"This must be really troubling you, young master."

Ciel looks up hard at that, eye wide.

"It's my move," says Sebastian, smirking. "It's my turn to change up our little chess game, but I've waited so long to make my move, you've begun to doubt yourself. Am I wrong?"

No answer, and Sebastian's smirk widens.

"Master, would you like to know when I will make my move?"

Sebastian's too close, now; Ciel can hear his breath and smell his scent and feel his presence, dark and velvety on his skin. If he were to move one more inch, their lips would brush. Slowly, he nods.

"I will make my move," here—much to Ciel's shock—Sebastian swoops in and does exactly what Ciel imagined seconds before, pressing his lips to Ciel's and murmuring the last word into his mouth.

_"Tomorrow."_

 

~

 

Sebastian's lips are like the rest of him, Ciel finds: nothing less than perfect. Ciel can't help but memorise how they feel, plush against his own—he is the Queen's Watch Dog, after all, and has always paid attention to small details on the chance they prove to be useful.

But now there's no logic involved, no looking for clues to a case, no seeking the missing piece to the puzzle. Ciel finds Sebastian's lips again and again, free to do so behind the closed doors of his bedchambers, but not with evil intent. That is, unless truly wanting a demon's touch is in itself evil.

"Sebas—" The name is swallowed by a kiss, one that leaves him breathless.

"Hush, my lord," the demon says, placing a finger to Ciel's swollen lips. "Don't speak. At least, not in words."

Sebastian's hands skim over him like he's the most precious tea cup in the cabinet—one that the clumsy maid would be forbidden to touch. Fingers trace over his brand mark, soft as the sheets he rests on.

It's ironic, really, that a demon's touch can feel this heavenly. As if to remind himself of Sebastian's nature, Ciel brings his lips to Sebastian's again and pushes his tongue clumsily inside, seeking the demon's fangs.

_This man is no angel, and it will do you good to remember that._

Ciel's tongue brushes against a sharp canine, and the blood that blossoms clears the haze from his head. He doesn't pull away, though—as long as he remember who it is he's kissing, who it is his heart is pounding for, he can stay on his guard.

When Sebastian's mouth suckles Ciel's throat, leaving his own mouth free, he speaks up. "Sebastian. How long are we going to go on like this?"

Ciel can only handle so much, he thinks, as Sebastian's lips curve around the pulse at his throat. "Oh? Are you not enjoying yourself?"

". . . I think I'm enjoying myself too much," Ciel murmurs, and for once he chooses truth over lie. Sebastian had always seen through his lies, anyway. His clothes are peeled away, achingly slowly, and he feels his resolve start to crumble.

Sebastian's hands massage his skin. "Then stop asking questions, master, and let yourself relax."

He doesn't listen, since he's the master and Sebastian's the servant. "When will you be taking my soul, Sebastian?"

"Asking the same question over and over is pointless, you know," says Sebastian. "Especially one you already know the answer to."

Sebastian's fingers snag on his hair, slip through it. Ciel falls into the gesture and thinks that maybe losing their game wouldn't be so bad. Letting the demon have his way—  
"Tomorrow," Ciel says with a sigh, and he brings his lips back to Sebastian's, a sign of his defeat. "Tomorrow you'll take my soul."

 

~

 

They're having a picnic under the stars when Ciel figures it out.

He's spread out on their thin blanket, staring at the stars while his butler names off the constellations. His belly is full, what with all the food Sebastian stuffed him with, and his eyes are sleepy and half-open. But he feels odd, somehow, almost content.

And as the stars wink down at him, he imagines himself to be one of them, and wonders how he would feel if he were to suddenly blink out, gone from the sky full of a million stars.

Ciel's throat closes up, then, and with horror he finds that his answer has changed, he's not indifferent per usual, he doesn't want to leave the sky.

(He doesn't want to die, doesn't want to die _doesn't want to—)_

"Sebastian!" Ciel shoots up, much to the butler's surprise. Sebastian's mouth closes, pausing in the middle of a sentence about some constellation Ciel doesn't care about.

"Yes? What's wrong?"

"Sebastian, Sebas—" Ciel goes over to him, seizes his tailcoat with trembling fists. His voice shakes pathetically, but he's too panicked to smooth it. "Sebastian, do it—kill me, right now—"

It wouldn't be a bad time to die, he thinks, surrounded by stars and Sebastian's rosy scent, but Sebastian's not having it.

"Ciel," Sebastian pries his hands off and captures them with his own, "please, calm down. Take deep breaths, and—"

"Shut up!" Ciel shakes his head wildly, fast enough for Sebastian to blur in front of him. He sags into the man's chest, fists beating on the black fabric. "I order you, take my soul already!"

"Ciel, you know you cannot order me anymore, since the contract is long over—"

"If the contract is long over, then why am I still _alive?"_ Ciel shouts. His breath snags, and he gives himself a second to breathe. ". . . Why, Sebastian? Why are you toying with me? Isn't my soul enough, you damn demon?"

Sebastian's eyes widen, and he opens his mouth, but there's no way in hell Ciel's finished.

"You—your kind—make me sick. I know what you're trying to do, you know, I'm no fool. I know that you charm your victims, make them grow attached to you, make them want to live and beg for their life, just so you can take it away—but you're insane if you think I'm letting that happen to me." He doesn't mention that it already did.

"If that's what you think, perhaps you're more naive than I thought, Ciel."

Sebastian's looking at him with an exasperated, almost fond look. Before Ciel can blink, he's gathered into a pair of arms, tucked under a pale chin. At this proximity, Ciel is sure that Sebastian can feel his heightened heartbeat.

"I think I understand now," Sebastian murmurs into his hair. "I just have one question."

Ciel doesn't say anything, and Sebastian takes this as an invitation to continue.

"Ciel, do you want to continue living?"

His breath stops, and he wonders what his answer what his answer would have been any time before this: _No, of course not. I've achieved my revenge, haven't I?_ Now, though—today, under the stars and moon and with Sebastian's body pressed against his own—

"Yes," Ciel whispers.

It's the peak of weakness to tell this to a demon, a demon who enjoys suffering and pain and would gladly snuff out a life that wanted to live, but he can't stick to a lie any longer.

"Is that so?" Ciel can't see Sebastian's face, but his voice sounds light, somehow. "I'm glad we're on the same page, then."

He doesn't expect this reply, at all. "W-What?" Ciel pulls away to look at him, surprised. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Sebastian looks as if he's trying not to laugh. "My lord, what did you think all my tomorrrows even meant?"

"That you wanted to toy with me before taking my soul, of course, you're a demon, so isn't that—?"

Sebastian does laugh here, and the sight is so strange, so unusual that Ciel just stares. When he's finished, he shakes his head and sighs. "I did it because I love my young master, of course. Was that not obvious?"

It was not obvious.

Ciel feels his throat close up, and he can hear the faint rustling of the grass and the soft murmur of the cicadas in the trees and his own heart beat, alive alive alive in his chest. He heaves a breath in his chest and the world still spins, shiny stars a blur of white.

Ever the patient servant, Sebastian is silent as Ciel absorbs this information. His face is tilted towards the stars, and when Ciel draws him back with a chaste kiss to the mouth, he does not protest.

"You love me," Ciel confirms.

"I do."

"You don't plan on taking my soul."

"I don't."

"You . . . You plan on spending the rest of my life by my side?" His last statement is more of a question than the rest, more hesitant, though he tries not to let it show. Sebastian catches on (of course he does) and he smiles, if slightly.

"I do."

The blanket crinkles beneath Ciel's whitened fingertips, and he has one last question. His eyes fall to the meal and picnic basket scattered around them. "Shouldn't you clean all this up?"

"I will," says Sebastian, and he presses a kiss to Ciel's lips and they fall into the blankets and don't let go, lost in their own dark haven under the stars.

"Tomorrow."  



End file.
